


A Stiff Drink, A Single Chance

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Alcohol, Collars, Drunk confessions, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fantasizing, Internalized Transphobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Men Crying, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rough Kissing, Self Confidence Issues, Spanking, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, no drunk sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Jensen's been pining for Pritchard for months, his thoughts of the man indecent at the very least. He's got all of the things he wants to do to the hacker in a numerized list. Francis may have different ideas though, if they can just get there.





	1. Chapter 1

Francis’ hands were long and narrow, the veins on the backs of them clearly wriggling over the tendons and bones. The nails were short, too short, and the skin around the nail beds were chapped and cracked and bitten away; nerves. There was a mole on the inside of one wrist, on the jutting bone on the side of the other. When he talked they were usually at his sides, but when he spoke of something technical or he had to remember something, they would instinctually rise up and it always looked like he was playing piano when he gesticulated. 

They were almost as long as Adam’s, but so much thinner, and the skin looked so fragile, like he could break through it as easily as paper. He could. He could break through it as easily as he could bone or boulders. 

He was glad of his lenses. He was staring, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop thinking about holding those wrists, a thumb on either mole, and pinning them to his slick black sheets. He could imagine the look that Francis would give him, softened by his hair let loose, before pleasure overtook him. 

He coughed into his elbow politely and shifted in his seat. He didn’t know if anyone else in the room had a C.A.S.I.E. but he was starting to make things apparent about himself that no one needed augmentations to see. And about his coworker too. His coworker, who was glaring at him from next to the holoboard, trying to give a speech on the intricate natures of fire walls, for the third time in so many weeks. 

He tried to pay attention. He tried to be a supportive head of security, but his mind and his eyes kept wandering. Francis’ shirt was hugging his chest a bit more than usual, the color a crisper black. It must have been new. And it was a v-neck, of all things. 

Adam didn’t think he’d ever seen Francis in something like that. He could see his neck and it was thicker than he’d expected, but just as long. The cords in it were strong and became more prominent when he had to raise his voice. Hi adam’s apple was a strong jutting point. At the base, where it curved to meet clavicles, was another small mole, just on the left side. It was a neck that should be shown off more often, not one that should be hidden under a turtleneck. It was a neck in need of decoration and Adam could picture it in a collar, either one of leather and obedience, Francis bucking against obedience, Adam’s hands in his hair and on a leash, forcing him to follow Adam’s lead. He could picture it in a collar of bruises and hickies, Francis coming to work in his highest collar and his hair down to try to hide the fact that Adam owned him. 

He shifted again, pulling his own shirt down. Parts of him were still very human and they reacted in ways that he couldn’t hide. There was a table in the board room at least, and that was enough to keep him obscured from eyes that didn’t have x-ray capabilities. He was hot though and he knew that the sweat on his cheeks, on one side of his brow, was obvious. 

“Jensen, if you’re feeling that cramped up, you can leave,” Francis growled, still standing next to his presentation. “I’m sure no one would mind if Sarif’s dog went on a little walkie.”

It wasn’t the worst insult that Francis had ever thrown his way but it still hurt, made his chest ache in a way that he didn’t think was possible anymore as heat rose to his cheeks. He didn’t even know he could blush anymore. Francis didn’t have to call him that, and he didn’t have to do so in public. 

“I’m fine,” he grit out, not fine in the least, “Get on with your presentation. I’m sure everyone’s just ecstatic to learn more about the intricate nature of proxies.”

He could see it in everyone’s faces, just how bored they were. He was probably the most entertained of them, but that was more due to his own imagination than Francis’ jargon. 

Francis rolled his eyes and his hips and turned, facing away from them to point out different elements of his presentation, trying to get them all to understand just how difficult they were making it by not following the instructions he had emailed them. 

His jacket was just short enough to show off the curvature of his ass and Adam’s mind was racing again, his erection hurting as it pressed against his zipper through his briefs. Francis was skinny, would be so delicate in Adam’s grip, but it seemed that gravity had worked in his favor and any snacks he ate at his desk at settled in his butt. It was small but rounder than the rest of him, and Adam couldn’t see it through his stupid cargo shorts, but he could imagine just how perky it would be, another mole or two that he could lick and focus on as he spread Francis open. His skin was pale, it would be paler there, and he was sure he could make it blossom into such beautiful reds and purples with his hands. 

He wondered if Francis wore underwear. He wondered if Francis would wear pretty underwear, if he told him to. He wanted to get Francis over his knee and spank him until he couldn’t come up with anymore insults, until their were tears in his eyes, until he was begging. He wanted to slide his fingers, so easily, into the cleft of that ass, watch him writhe as Jensen penetrated him with them, slick and simple, and hot, as a reward for keeping his mouth shut. He wanted to open that ass up slowly and he didn’t know if he wanted to keep his eyes on that hole, see how Francis took him, or on his face, to see that look of defeat and subservience. 

“Now, I know a lot of you have tuned this out by now, since I keep having to go over it, but this isn’t just for your benefit.” Francis sounded done, frustrated, exhausted. “These are security protocols for the entirety of Sarif staff. So you not locking your computers and sending each other passwords and leaving valuable information out in public isn’t just going to get me on your ass, it can lead to major breaches in the companies network. And that means major breaches in the security for our customers.”

It was drawing to a close. Adam had to switch directions, think of something other than bending Francis over and fucking him right there in the boardroom. He had to do something about this, this need, to get his erection to flag before the meeting was over. If Francis saw he’d never hear the end of it and would probably get an urgent call from HR. 

Luckily, it was easy for him to get turned off, even though it was difficult to stop imagining such scenarios. All he had to do was imagine the man doing such things to Francis. The black alloy, the inhuman body temperature, the look on Francis’ face if he were to ever see Adam naked, just seeing all of the scars and how little of him there was left. 

He was under control, presentable at least, by the time that the meeting was over. Everyone got up, murmuring in annoyance, as they started to file out of the board room. Francis stood there, watching them go. Adam should have been with him. 

“Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse,” Francis groaned as he pressed his hands onto the table, supporting himself, head hanging down. “And you didn’t make it much better. What were you thinking about so hard, Jensen? You looked like you were about to have an aneurysm.”

Adam couldn’t say. He would rather die than admit to spending the entire board meeting imagining fucking a coworker. Who was out of his league. Who was probably not even interested in men. Who would never be interested in him. Francis was quite open about his disdain towards him. 

“Just thinking about all the work I could have been doing if I wasn’t listening to you prattle on,” he lied.

“Oh, only that? You have a team at least, life still goes on without you skulking the halls every hour.” 

Adam sighed. He didn’t want to fight, not right now. Not all the time. “Is there anyway to get something pleasant out of your mouth?”

“I’ve got an annoying voice, Jensen,” Francis shrugged, “It works to keep people from trying to distract me with conversation.”

“I meant word-wise.”

“Well, I hear I’m much more pleasant with a few drinks in me.”

That was something that Adam could work with, though he surprised himself with saying so much. “You want to do that?”

Francis squinted at him. “What?”

Adam mimicked his shrug. “I have a cabinet full of booze that does nothing when it hits my bloodstream. I’m just wondering if I can get a glimpse of the elusive ‘nice’ Francis.”

A roll of the eyes but a small smile to the lips. It was a warmer smile that Adam would have expected. It was handsome on him. A lot things were handsome on him. “Of all people, you’re asking me out?”

“Not a date or anything,” Adam interjected, defensive. He didn’t want to push. He didn’t know what he’d do if this was a date. He’d been fantasizing about Francis for a long time though, he had to take a step towards it at some point. “Just relaxing.”

“I don’t know about that,” Francis slumped, his anger finally releasing, and he ran a hand through the strands that had fallen from his ponytail. Adam wished he’d take out the band, shake his hair out, and fix it, just to give him a glimpse. He’d never seen Francis with his hair down. “I’m not much for relaxing. Or socializing.”

“After work?”

“I’ll ping you. You know I don’t know much bout ‘after work’.”

Adam stood, finally feeling confident enough to, and put a hand on Francis’ shoulder, calibrating in his head the right amount of pressure, as he did everything; feather light. “Don’t work yourself to death. You know they’ll only call me to clean up the mess.”

Francis bit his lip and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost one in the morning when Frank finally left work, but Jensen was still awake, still willing to let him drop by for a few drinks, and still acting cordial. It was strange. Frank didn’t know why Jensen had invited him in the first place, or why he’d agreed to it, but he had and he was going. He tried not to think about it too much, the implications. They worked together, it wasn’t that strange for coworkers to get together after work to socialize. He wasn’t good at socializing. He wasn’t good at friends. He would be lying if he said part of it wasn’t the hope at seeing something of Jensen that was hidden away from the workplace. 

He didn’t bring anything. He didn’t even change out of his clothes from the day, since he didn’t bring a spare change of clothes with him. He knew that he looked messy and disheveled, both from work and from the ride over, but he fixed himself up as best he could in the reflective interior of the elevator before making his way to Jensen’s door, swallowing, bouncing on his heels, and finally getting the courage to knock. 

The door was opened almost immediately and the hallway was filled with golden light. A silhouette in the door frame, Jensen looked like a demon, all dark and seductive and wrong, not the way that Frank should have been thinking of a coworker. 

“You were quick,” Jensen noted, taking a step back and letting Frank inside. The apartment was that hasty sort of clean, where someone just hid things away in an attempt to impress. There were still a few cardboard boxes around though, Jensen hadn’t moved in fully yet, even though it had been months. 

“I’ve been here before,” Frank reminded, “to install your security system. I love what you’ve done with the place, the boxes look almost décor.”

“I can’t wait to meet nice Francis,” Adam chuckled. 

He turned back to Jensen, finally noticing what he was wearing, as he picked up a pair of drinks. A black turtleneck with simple gold embellishments on the sleeves and sides, a pair of jeans that looked good but casual. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d ever wear to work, too clingy, but it felt too dressed up just for drinking with a friend. 

“You just couldn’t wait to get me liquored up, could you?” Frank smirked, taking a drink from him and allowing himself to be led to the couch. 

“Got that waiting for company anxiety,” Jensen admitted, a small smile to his lips. “I didn’t know what you liked so I just guessed scotch. A bit sweeter than coffee but more of a bite to it.” 

They sat a safe distance away from each other. They chatted. They drank. Frank couldn’t stop himself from being a snarky bastard and he knew that he was being one but the scotch was softening his tongue. It was warming him up from the inside a bit. It was making things easier. 

Adam’s tongue danced along the inside of his glass, barely noticeable, as he finished his drink, chasing the last few drops. Frank was even warmer. That tongue, so soft and pink and hidden away by those lips, hard ridged, angular, sharp, encircled by that perfectly trimmed beard. That tongue was so quick with wit and he swallowed, his mind wandering at the worst time. He wondered how much that beard would tickle or scratch at his thighs, how quick that tongue would be against him, inside of him, if he rode Jensen’s face. He could picture it, Adam buried underneath his pubis, bound to black satin sheets, sucking and teasing him with tongue and teeth, until Frank berated him and told him to stay still so he could do as he pleased. He wanted to ride him so hard that he couldn’t breathe, that he’d look up at Frank pleading while his body squirmed, trying to find some air. He wanted to pull off and watch that tongue chase after him as he held Jensen at bay with his hands in his hair and had he already had that much to drink already?

“Pick your poison,” Jensen offered, taking Frank’s glass and going back to the liquor cabinet. 

“I have a particular response to scotch,” Frank remarked, stretching and pulling off his jacket. Ada-Jensen was staring at him, that pink tongue darting out to lick the taste of scotch off his lips. A band of Frank’s stomach was showing from the stretch and he yanked his shirt down a bit but Adam was still staring. He thought that alcohol didn’t affect Adam-Jensen that much. “Beer does too. You get a few of those in me and I’ll be asleep on your couch.”

“Rum then?” 

“Rum then,” Frank agreed, watching him pour. 

He came back, sat a little closer. He wasn’t making eye contact. He was staring at something below Frank’s chin. Frank flushed, uncomfortable. Even then he didn’t like eyes on his chest. He couldn’t tell if that was even was Ada-Jensen, was focusing on. 

“You’re in your own house, Jensen, I’m sure no one would mind you taking off your shades like a normal parson.”

Black hand in black hair, fingers running through it. It looked thick, healthy, like it could handle a good tug. Frank wrapped his hands around his glass instead. He wondered how Jensen would respond, mouth open and keening or fighting against the grip. 

Adam was shaking his head though. “I don’t think people really like looking me in the eye these days.”

“I’m not people,” Frank corrected, taking a swig of the rum. It was good, smooth and spicy, expensive. He was feeling nervous though, trying to get closer to Adam. To Jensen, he corrected himself. He could already feel that specific heat, his ears hot and red, everything feeling loose, including his tongue. 

The lenses slid back and Adam’s eyes slid to the floor. He had seemed bold before, but now, exposed, he looked sad. Frank meant to stop himself, he really did, but he couldn’t quite, and he ran a hand alongside Jensen’s jaw, nudging his chin. 

“Jensen, look at me?” 

The fact that Jensen did, that he obeyed him so easily, made Frank’s heart jump. His fingers were tingly, either from drinking too fast after so long without, or from the contact with Adam’s skin. Adam made eye contact with him, his expression lax, hopeful, and Frank gave him a wry smile. 

“Sarif really did do a number on you, didn’t he? Those are gorgeous, look like they’d cost my pay for a year.”

He could see Jensen’s jaw shift as he swallowed, as he forced himself not to look away. “They’re not human.”

“Neither is a city skyscape, neither is a painting, doesn’t stop them from causing awe or drawing emotion.” He explained and Adam’s face was twisting up, his thick eyebrows knotting, his lips a thin line. Frank didn’t know if Jensen could cry but he didn’t want to make him, not like this. 

Frank finished his drink; fast. Adam stared into his, composing himself, thinking. When Frank was done Adam handed him his own glass, whispered a thanks so quietly that Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard it, and took the empty one to the bar to refill it. 

“You want to know a secret?” Adam asked from the bar, his voice still quiet but no longer a whisper. 

“I’m a hacker. Of course I want to know a secret.”

Adam poured and drained the glass and refilled it with a steady hand. The drink didn’t seem to affect him at all. “I don’t think you have an annoying voice.”

“Ha!” Frank sarcastically interjected. Adam had to think he had an annoying voice. The way he was always prattling on, the way he couldn’t stop himself from being sarcastic, he knew that he was annoying. He’d heard others mention it too, after meetings, after any time he had to do something boisterous, whenever he had to be heard. His voice was sharp and grating, much like the rest of him. 

Adam sat so close to him that their knees were touching and his legs were spread comfortably. The material of his pants was tight enough that Frank could see the seems of Adam’s legs underneath. He could see where alloy met skin. It went high, but not too high. Frank wondered how sensitive the skin was, if he could get Adam to writhe by dragging his nails over it, by licking at the places where skin ended. Like this, Frank could fit between his legs easily. He almost wanted to. A few more drinks and he’d be able to work up the courage for such a mistake. 

“I’m not lying. I like hearing you talk, Francis,” Jensen’s hand went out, almost touching Frank’s elbow, before he caught it and pulled away, as if his own touch was a curse. “Especially like this.”

“I have a secret too, if you want to know it,” Frank didn’t want to say it but he wanted to change the subject and Adam’s eyes were grazing Frank’s arms, not his chest, like he thought they were. He wasn’t strong, not compared to Jensen, but he did have some muscle in his arms, from hauling his bike around and working on the one in his office. He was a true believer that someone shouldn’t own a motorcycle if they couldn’t pick it up. 

He stood up, wobbling a little, “A few more drinks and Nice Pritchard will turn into Stupid Pritchard.”

“Who’s Stupid Pritchard?” Adam chuckled up to him. It was a good sound. 

“It’s the Pritchard that makes decisions that Sober Pritchard regrets.”

“What kind of decisions?” 

Frank started on his journey to the bathroom. He wasn’t drunk, not yet, but he was tipsy, and he had to focus walking a bit. “Oh, you know, the usual, lose my shirt, ruin relationships, steal people’s plants, or dogs, that sort of stuff.”

He turned left and stared. He hadn’t been far off. The sheets were cotton, not silk, but they were still black. He was sure that parts of Jensen would be invisible against them, black on black, and it would be the light dancing on the alloy to make him noticeable as he moved. He bet that Jensen would grab the headboard for support, not the sheets, as he was pounded into, shoved up and down the bed as he was fucked. 

Frank was hard in his pants. Standing up, he felt a lot more drunk than he had been before. He felt like Stupid Pritchard was already there. 

“This isn’t the bathroom,” he informed Adam, as if he didn’t know, and turned to head in the right direction. He could hear his friend laugh to himself. It was a warm sound, not as gritty as his speaking voice. He liked it. 

He finished his business and washed his hands and tried to make himself look a little bit better in the millions of hims in the mirror. He made his way back to the living room and fell into the spot next to Adam, their thighs touching now. 

“Your mirror’s broken.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” 

Adam handed him his glass. It was full again. “You want me to make a fool of myself.”

“Only a little bit.”

His eyes caught Adam’s lips again. They were slightly parted, as if he was waiting for something. Frank licked his own lips. He took a sip. He wanted to know what Adam’s lips tasted like. He drank more, half the glass, and then dragged his eyes up, slowly, to Adam’s gold and green ones. 

“Who gave you the right to be so pretty, huh?” Frank complained, “You’re like, you’re really good looking and it’s not fair. You were good looking before and then there was everything and you almost died and I hated myself for a long time because I didn’t do anything and I couldn’t do anything and you were gone and then Sarif fucked you up and you should be ugly and all that because you lost a lot of your head and you came out of it even prettier than before. It’s really rude of you.”

Adam looked like he had been slapped, eyes wide, those damn perfect eyebrows raised. “What?”

“I hate Stupid Pritchard. Everyone should hate Stupid Pritchard,” he drained the glass and handed it back to Adam. “Stupid Pritchard is an idiot.”

“You want to stop?” Adam asked, unsure, not of Frank’s answer but of Frank himself. 

“No, at this point I’ll still remember all of the mistakes tomorrow. And I feel good and I feel like I’m going to cry a bit, which I do NOT want to do in front of you but I also feel really honest right now and that’s where the mistake is.”

Adam got him another drink. This one was clear though and Frank hoped it was vodka. He was going to be terribly sick in the morning. Adam was still drinking from his last glass of rum. 

“You know what you are, Adam?” he asked. Adam perked up. It was rare that Frank called him by his first name and he hated that it slipped out. He felt like he was both far too heavy and not heavy enough. “You’re a fucking. An. An Adam? No, that’s you’re not. An…. An Adonis! That’s what you are. You’re fucking perfect, all the time, and those of us that aren’t all that great, we don’t even have a chance, and it sucks.” 

He felt good. He felt really good, but he could still feel that telltale heat in his eyes, a terrible sorrow start to build and pour over. His eyes were wet, as if to dowse some flames and he wiped at them. Adam’s eyes trailed after his hands, then froze on Frank’s face. 

“There are so many things I want to do to you and I know I’ll never be able to and that it’s stupid for me to even think about. Reed didn’t deserve you either but somehow she was good enough to pass the test. Even after the two of you broke up you only ever had eyes for her. And I’ve always wanted to fuck you but yeah right. One look at me and it would be over.” He was crying now, he could tell, but he didn’t really care. He needed to be drunker for this. “One look at me and you’d-

He couldn’t finish the sentence because Adam was grabbing him, his hands hard, would be too hard if the touch wasn’t softened by the cloud of alcohol. Adam was pulling him up, pulling him close, and Frank could feel the ridge on his lips, the scratch of his beard, the clash of his teeth, as Adam pulled him in for a kiss. It was long and hard and violent, the way that Adam kissed, as if he’d forgotten how, as if his body was made by a mad scientist who only wanted to use him to cause harm. 

Frank was kissing him back, trying to wear him down, trying to gain the upper hand. He knew that he would fail. He knew that this was a mistake. For the moment though, everything felt right. For the moment, Adam being against him was enough to make him forget how Adam would respond if they went any further.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

He had so many questions, right on the tip of his tongue, but there was another tongue against the tip of his as well and there was nothing in him strong enough to pull away. His hands were on Francis’ back, slipping under the material of his shirt and roaming against his skin. With his eyes closed, his attention elsewhere, he could almost imagine actually feeling that heat. 

Francis was puffing out hot breaths against his lips, was squirming up and into Adam’s lap, and Adam could feel the pressure and the heat of his hands as they clamped around his shoulders, holding him steady. Those hands were massaging him, working around the augments, digging into sore muscles, almost by instinct.   
Adam was hard and pressing up with his hips, his body wanting into a body that was still clothed, unprepared, drunk. 

His eyes snapped open and he almost shoved Francis off of him, grabbing him roughly and pulling him away. Francis’ pupils were big, taking up most of the iris, and he was flushed, his lips parted and pink. He was debauched, as much as he could be, just from some kissing and some hands on skin. 

“You’re drunk,” Adam reminded. 

Francis smiled, loose and willing, “Just like you wanted.”

“This is a mistake,” Adam explained, softening his hold and rubbing circles into the soft skin of Francis’ hips. 

“Stupid Pritchard makes lots of those. I thought that was what you wanted.” 

He brought up his hand, held onto Francis’ cheek. He wanted Stupid Francis to tell him all of the things that Sober Francis was too scared to. He wanted Sober Francis to be the one to act on those desires though. He never expected their desires to line up so well. 

“Why don’t you tell me all of the dirty little things you want me to do to you?” Adam purred. The situation was more than salvageable and this would give him ideas for what to do once the intoxication had passed. 

Francis cackled though, tossing his head back, exposing more of that beautiful long neck. “What you do to me? You must be joking!” 

Adam raised an eyebrow. His mouth was dry, “What do you mean?” 

“You’re not going to do anything to me, I don’t know who you think you are all big and strong and gorgeous but you’re not in charge here. I might be an idiot right now, but I know what I want and it’s not you in charge.”

Adam’s face was red, he could tell. He didn’t even need to see it to know. Stupid Francis was very complimentary and honest and that meant he wasn’t lying. Adam didn’t know what Francis would glean from lying to him anyway. He must have meant it. Adam hadn’t felt attractive in a long time and the onslaught of positive affirmations had chased away the fear of what Francis would think when he saw him naked. For the moment. 

“You think you’re a top?” Adam smirked back at him. 

“No,” Francis shook his head, “I’m a switch and I didn’t bring my tools because I wasn’t expecting this at all, so it’s not like I could top you if I wanted to. What I am though is dominant and I want to see how good you can be for me.”

Adam froze up with a hot tingling sensation, starting deep in his gut and spreading out. He wasn’t young, he knew it was a nervous jitter, a desire that he hadn’t been expecting. 

“I’m not a sub,” he argued, against Francis and about his thoughts towards himself. 

“Right,” Francis smirked again. Adam really liked the look on him, paired with his sharp features, it made his look mischevious. “You’re an alpha male. You could have fooled me with how you follow Sarif’s orders.” 

“He’s my boss,” Adam argued. 

“I could be your boss.”

“I’ve never done it before.”

At that Francis’ smirk softened and he draped his arms around Adams’ neck, loose and light. He looked Adam over and there was a hunger in his eyes. He shifted, spread his legs a bit, straddled Adam further. He was still hard, still wanting, and he wanted so badly to just slip into Francis, to hold him down onto the couch, and pound into him. He couldn’t though, not like this, and Francis was making it clear that he didn’t want that. 

Francis ran his thumb along the sheath for Adam’s lens and the sensation made him shiver. He couldn’t remember the last time he was touched kindly, by a real person, and he was conscious for it. He wanted more. He loved the way that Francis’ thumb felt there, it made him feel like the sheath was a part of him, instead of something that he was holding, like the flesh around it was more than nerves and scars, it made him feel right. 

“It’s easy,” Francis promised, “You just have to be willing to please and feel safe enough to take orders.”

“I know the concept,” Adam interrupted, “I’ve been wanting to do such terrible things to you for so long.”

“Terrible?” That smirk was back, as was Francis’ tongue, darting out and catching Adam’s thumb where it still sat against his lip, sending another spark of arousal through Adam’s body. “Do tell.”

Adam slipped that thumb away from Francis’ lips, brought it back to his hair and finally, excruciatingly, pulled the band out from his hair. He shook his head, letting his hair go free, to settle around his shoulders and back in a cascade of almost black. 

“Today, during your boring ass presentation,” Adam started, “all I could think about was collaring you, leashing you, and bending you over the table to spank you till you couldn’t talk anymore and reward you with fingering you till you were begging for my cock.”

“And my hair?” Francis caught on, leaning in as Adam ran his fingers through it, amazed that the joints I his fingers didn’t catch on any knots. 

“I want to pull it. I want to make a mess of you.” 

“Hmm,” Francis thought on it for a moment, “Boring. Easy. That’s some basic stuff right there.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

Francis nodded. “See, here’s what I was thinking: I want to tie you to the bed and fuck your face. I want to see how good you are with your tongue before I make you go still and just take what I want. I want you to make me cum like that. And then I want to spread you out, I want to see how big I can get something into you while I edge you, over and over again. I want you a drooling mess. I want you crying. I want to release you and have you edge yourself till your soaking in precum and I just sit there, watching, as you ride the biggest toy we can fit in you.”

“Until I cum?” 

Francis chuckled at that, lying back in Adam’s lap, his legs splayed around Adam’s hips as his back was on the couch, his head haloed in his hair. 

“As if I’d let you cum that easily. No, If you’re good, you can cum. If you’re very good for me, I’ll let you fuck me and cum in me. I’d want everything nice and clean before that happens though, you sucking off every tool we’d put into you until its shiny with spit. Maybe I’d even hit you a few times, would you be into that?” 

Adam shuddered and shook his head. He spent a lot of his time either getting hit or expecting to get hit, either by enemies or by anti augs. “I hurt enough in the day to day, I don’t want more of that.” 

“But the rest?”

He thought on it for a moment. There was a demon in his lap, haloed like an angel, and he wanted to run his hands over every inch of skin. He wanted to ruin Francis but, the more he spoke about it, the more Adam wanted to be ruined. 

“Yeah, yeah, I want to try, at least. You’ll let me so no, right?” 

“Considering you’re being enough of a gentlemen to not fuck me into the couch right now, even though I very much want you to, because I’m still a bit drunk? Of course.” 

Adam slipped out from under Francis’ legs, taking his glass and going to the kitchen for a third glass of water. The sooner he was himself the sooner they could try. He wanted to try. Even when he dominated someone, or if it was just vanilla, he always wanted to please. Francis was giving him that opportunity and he was both parts nervous and excited. 

Francis was still laying back on the couch when he returned, his shirt bunched up enough to expose a stripe of stomach. It looked so soft, so normal, compared to his own, which seemed to always be hard from the strain of his augments. He wanted to run his hands over it, to see the soft flesh poke up between his fingers. He wanted human fingers to do that with. 

“It’s hot in here,” Francis complained, even though that was the alcohol and not the heat at all. “I want to take off my shirt.”

“Then take off your shirt.” Adam handed him the glass. 

“You’ll stare at me.” 

“I’m more machine than I am man, Francis. And we’re going to be fucking pretty soon. Hopefully I’ll be seeing you completely naked.” 

“I’m self conscious.” 

“I’m sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Francis pouted and grabbed onto Adam’s arm, using it as leverage to pull himself up into a sitting position. He drank at his water. He stared at the wall. When the glass was half empty he got up and went to the bathroom again. Adam watched him go. He was much sturdier now. He wondered if he was sober enough.


End file.
